A Mother's Life
by KatLeePT
Summary: Every day of her life is the same. Mrs. Guthrie. Also makes mention of Cannonball and Husk.


Every day has been the same for her now for so long that sometimes, she has to think hard to remember a time when she wasn't lonely. She wakes every morning the same way in a bed that hasn't had another's touch in well over a decade. She hasn't known another man since her husband, and she never will. She loved him when she chose to marry him, and nothing will ever quell that love, not even death or too much time spent alone.

It's the cock's crow that wakes her, and as soon as she stirs to consciousness, she knows there's work to be done. She dresses quickly, starts her coffee brewing, and goes and milks the cow. She checks on all the animals, making sure each one has his or her right amount of food and water, before returning to the kitchen. She barely has time to pour herself a cup of coffee before it's time to start waking her children.

She wakes the oldest first, but there's always one who doesn't have to be awakened. Like his older brother, Sam, and Paige, too, he's already up and helping on the chores or mending a fence before she can call him. Sometimes, he even meets her in the yard and sends her back in to rest while he feeds the animals.

The older children understand more about their life here in the country than the young ones. They know there's always work to be done and understand they have to hurry through morning routines and eat a smaller breakfast than they'd like so that there's time and plenty for every one else. She knows she's blessed they don't grumble or complain and each one does their part to help to make it easier for the ones younger than they. Even little Janey dresses Annie so she doesn't have to.

She knows the children suffer. The other kids make fun of them because their big brother and sister have gone away to the city. They tease them because their father is dead. They laugh at them because they wear holes in their clothes and don't have the money they do. Just once in her life, she'd like to be rich not so that she could finally have everything she wanted, although that would be a blessing too, but rather so that her children wouldn't have to tolerate the ugliness of their peers.

What's always worse is when somebody brings up the reason why Paige and Sam are no longer here. Even some of the children of the miners who Sam saved when his powers kicked in tease her little ones because her older children are freaks. Her kids are out there saving the world every day of their lives, and yet back here at home, their little brothers and sisters are being picked on by some of the very same people for whom they're risking their lives.

She never tells them. She never once complains in the letters she writes them or in the rare calls she receives. They have too much on their plates already. She doesn't want them worrying about them, too, so she tells them every one is fine even when little Janey has a cold that keeps refusing to clear up and that there's plenty of money even when she's afraid the bank's going to come calling.

She won't worry her children. They're doing everything they can for her and for the world, and it's a momma's duty to protect her children. She can't protect them. She can't save them. But she can certainly keep a few of life's ugly truths from them.

Breakfast is always a hectic time in the Guthrie household, as is every meal. If she didn't have some of her older kids helping out, she doesn't know what she'd do, but somehow, together, they make it through and get everybody fed, cleaned up, and to school relatively on time. Then it's off to the market to see what little food she can afford to buy today and to the post office to mail another letter. They don't have much money, and stamps keep going up. She knows the nearly forty cents she spends on each letter could buy food, instead, but it's more important to her that her children know they're okay.

She writes one or the other of them every day, but it's rare she hears from them. She knows she's on their minds and they're just too busy to write or even to call. She toys, sometimes, with the idea of buying them cell phones, but she knows she can't afford it nor can she ask their teachers to provide them with one. They already do so much for them.

Charles Xavier is a Godsend to her family in more ways than either Sam or Paige will ever know. Not only has he taught her children how to control their powers and hide in a world that would quickly rip them apart if they had the opportunity, but since they've been with him, neither of them have needed anything they haven't received. He gives them the clothes on their backs and the food in their stomachs, and yet somehow, Sam still manages to send a little check home every now and again. She doesn't know where he gets the money, but she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her son wouldn't steal, and whereas he doesn't have time for a job, she knows he's coming by the money honestly. She's taught him that much and more.

The afternoon is spent in cleaning the house, mending clothes, doing laundry and dishes, and shelling peas. Then it's time to go get her children home. Every day on the ride back, she wonders what her two eldest are doing, where they are now, and rather they're safe. She fears for their lives every second of every day, but she knows Charles will let her know if ever anything horrible happens, like Sammy dying again. She still doesn't quite understand how he came back from the dead, but that doesn't lessen her gratefulness to Charles or to God in the least.

Her boy is back. Her baby's alive, and he's doing what he believes in. He's making the world a better place and saving lives. She couldn't be more grateful or prouder of the man he has become, and his baby sister is following right along in his footsteps, just like she always wanted.

She wonders, sometimes, what will become of the rest of her brood. They all seem normal enough as they chatter in the car, yell at each other, and try to hide their report cards and the letters their teachers have sent her. But then, Sam and Paige always seemed normal, too. Even a family as large as hers can not possibly continue to generate more new mutants, but even if every one of them becomes a mutant and a X-Man, she'll love them all the same. She'll love them equally, too, if they decide to go in Magneto's footsteps instead, although she'd hate the results for them. His is not a lifestyle she wishes for any of her children.

The next few hours speed by, as always they do. The older kids help the younger ones with their homework, and sometimes, they come to her with a problem. Jacob asks again for a computer; she apologizes, explaining once more that, whereas she knows it would help them with their homework, they simply can not afford one. She tries not to hear Jeb chastising his brother for asking for something so incredulously expensive when they're barely scraping by. She thinks again of trying to get a job, but there's just no way she can hold down a nine-to-five job and care for all her children.

She's so exhausted she can barely stand by the time she's fed them all and tucked them into bed, but still, she wanders outside. She warms her hands on the last cup of coffee as she looks up at the night sky. She remembers Sam telling her that he misses the fields and the wide, open skies of Kentucky and shudders to think of a place so crowded that one can not see even a single star for all the manmade lights. There's a lot that can be said about their hometown, a lot of bad things especially and nearly no opportunities, but one thing's certain: Here you can always see God's handiwork.

She gazes up at the night sky, at each twinkling star, and thinks of her own children, each shining so brightly in her life. Her years are long, exhausting, and lonely, but she wouldn't change a thing about her life unless it was that she could make it so that her husband had never died. She can almost feel his arms around her now as she quietly sips her coffee.

She wonders once more where her children are, what they're doing, who they're fighting, and how greatly in danger their lives are in the moment. She wonders if, perhaps, they're actually having a moment of peace and rather or not they can see the same sky at which she's gazing. She sighs, knowing she'll never know, hoping for a letter tomorrow, and turns back to the farmhouse to finally go to bed, but before she slips underneath her covers for the night, she says a prayer for all her children, touches the locket she wears that contains a picture of her husband and kids, and whispers, "Good night, Jed. Good night, Sam. Good night, Paige." She can almost hear them whispering back, "Good night, Momma," as she slips off to sleep and rest before opening her eyes to another brand new day filled once more with caring for her family.

The End


End file.
